Dragon's Flame
by darthelwig
Summary: Draco sets out to win Hermione, but there are obstacles in his way. PG-13 for mild language, mild violence and some sexuality. COMPLETE!
1. Dragon's Flame Musings

Dragon's Flame

By darthelwig

Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter's universe. Thus, none of these wonderful characters belong to me. I am not making any money off of this.

This is a Draco/Hermione fic. If you don't like them together, go read something else. Rated PG-13 for mild language.

Miss Hermione Granger was haunting his thoughts once again.

He hated it. Oh, how he hated it. How could a filthy mud-blood girl get under his skin like this? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Why did he always find himself showing off in front of her? What kind of sickness was it that made him yearn to see her smile at him like she smiled at her friends?

He ached to rip the memory of her out of his mind, to forget about ever meeting her. What good could come of this? None, that's what. A Malfoy did not _pine_ for anyone, much less someone as impure as she was. His father would be beside himself were he ever to discover his son's secret desire to possess this particular girl.

And what was so attractive about her anyway? Her hair was too bushy, she was bossy as hell, and she was hopeless when it came to her "causes". He snorted with mirth as he remembered SPEW. What a waste of time! House elves didn't need any rights. They wouldn't even know what to do with them if they had them!

But something about her wouldn't let him rest. Without fail, his thoughts would always drift back to her, lingering on the memories of her eyes sparkling with ire. The most beautiful he'd ever seen her was right before she punched him. Even the way she dressed up at the Yule Ball couldn't compare with the fire he's seen blazing in her eyes at that moment.

He shook his head, irritated with himself. The girl was a nuisance, as were her friends. He should just forget about her.

Easier said then done, though.

She was always _there, _and the more he tried to not think about her, the more she intruded in his head. Maybe he should just _obliviate_himself, forgetting everything. Yet even as he thought it, he knew he could never do that. He _liked_ her too much, damn it. He wanted her. He wanted that fire she possessed. He wanted to feel the heat of her passion, to see if he would be burned.

Like a moth to the flame. That's what he was, only not so innocent.

He looked at his reflection the mirror, examining the young man he saw before him. What did _she_ see? Was this the face of her dreams or her nightmares? Did his image haunt her as she did to him? Could she ever look beyond his veneer of sneering bigotry to see the true dragon in his heart? Would she ever know the _real_ Draco? Would she ever _want_ to?

He knew he had been terrible to her. He knew that things would never change. If he saw her on the street, he would still call her mud-blood. He would tease and insult her until she struck out at him again. The habits of a lifetime could not be dropped so easily. But did he really feel that way anymore? What did it matter anyway? Was it worth being alone and hated to be pure-blood? Was it worth losing any chance he might possibly ever have with her?

He gave himself a firm mental slap. He did _not_ want to "be with" Hermione Granger, no matter what his hormones were telling him. And that's what this was, pure hormones. They were something that could be controlled, and he would learn to do so. He would rid himself of this need, somehow.

That familiar smirk stretched his lips and he started to feel more himself. He would be rid of her one day. Until then, it would be a test of his willpower, and a Malfoy always got what he wanted. 


	2. Dragon's Flame Encounters

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Two

By darthelwig

I do not own Harry Potter, so these characters are not mine. I WISH they were. I am making absolutely NO money off of this.

PG-13 for mild language and sexuality (I may have to change this later if the story goes in that direction).

He could almost smell her scent on the air. His skin tingled with awareness of her presence. He knew she was close. She was here. He could always tell.

Of course, one didn't have to have magical powers to know she would be _here_, on the Hogwarts Express. She was probably already in her school robes, wearing her prefect's badge. He rubbed his sleeve over his own badge, making sure it was noticeable.

He would see her soon. The prefects had to meet for instructions before dispersing amongst the other students. He considered it to be a waste of time. After all, they all _knew_ what they were supposed to do. But it gave him time to be near her without revealing his secret… _desire_. 

His stomach gave a lurch as the excitement built up inside of him. He had to force himself to calm down. He had accepted his _crush_ on the mud-blood, but that did _not_ mean he would begin to act like a fool over her. He raised his chin, wrapping his dignity around himself like a cloak, and walked toward the prefects' compartment. 

She was there, sitting with Weasley. How that nitwit became a prefect was a mystery to most of the students at Hogwarts. Draco's guess was because he was Potter's friend and thus one of Dumbledore's favorites. It couldn't be his good marks or ability to abide by school rules and stay out of trouble. All the Weasley children seemed to have a knack for finding trouble wherever it may be. Of course, his father believed the family to be a total disgrace to the wizarding community, and Draco had to agree. Every member of the family was a complete menace to society, as each seemed to operate under the belief that they knew better than anyone else what was right and what was wrong.

Draco smirked to himself. Potter's little friend was the worst of the lot. He couldn't understand what Granger saw in the boy. His smirk became a frown as he imagined what Miss Hermione Granger could be finding so interesting about the slug. Weasley had better not have touched her, or he would soon find himself _becoming_ a real life slug, not just throwing them up. His smile returned as he contemplated all the things he could do to the Weasley boy.

He was having too much fun to notice that everyone had left the compartment, their brief meeting over. The only thing left was a thick copy of _Hogwarts: a History_ sitting on the bench. He knew who _that_ belonged to- Hermione.

He picked up the book, weighing it in his hands. How many times had her fingers played over these well-worn pages? How many times had she lost herself in the knowledge they possessed? Raising the edge up to his nose, he took a long, slow breath. He could smell her on it, like perfume. His mind conjured her image; he could see her standing before him, plain as day…

"What are you _doing_?"

He jumped, jolted out of his fantasy to come face to face with the real Hermione Granger. She was looking rather confused by what she'd found him doing, and he took the opportunity to cover his blunder.

"What business is it of _yours_, mud-blood?" he growled, embarrassment adding a touch of anger to his voice. He must have been blushing, but he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"That's _my_ book, Malfoy. Give it back." She held out her hand for the book, and Draco had to stop himself from taking her hand just to feel the smoothness of her skin. Instead he found himself staring at it, lost in his own musings until she cleared her throat. She looked at him expectantly- eyebrows raised- waiting.

"Oh, well, I didn't know it was _yours_. If I had, I would have known not to touch it! Now I've got to go wash up!" Draco used that as his opening to leave and he slid past, careful not to touch her. God knows what he would have done had he actually brushed against her. In his present state, he probably would have fallen to his knees and asked her forgiveness.

He stalked off, angrier than ever, pushing other students aside as he went. He needed to get away from people to collect himself. Their chance encounter had almost revealed his hidden longings, something he had sworn to himself he would not let happen. How could he be so stupid? He let himself get caught off-guard. That couldn't happen again. He didn't want the entire school to know Draco Malfoy had lost his mind and fallen for a mud-blood. What if word got to his _father_? No, he had to be more careful. He had to watch his step around Granger. No one could know.

He finally found an empty compartment, and took a few deep, cleansing breaths. The panic that roiled in his gut slowly settled until he no longer felt like he was going to throw up.

_'Be strong, Draco,'_ he told himself. _'Be strong.'_

It was going to be a _long_ year.


	3. Dragon's Flame Changes

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Three

Changes

By darthelwig

I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters in any way. I am also making no money off of this story, damn it! But if wishes really do come true, maybe I have a chance!

Rated PG-13- mild language and sexuality.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed me! You make me want to keep writing.

            Stalking was truly far below his station. A Malfoy had other ways of getting what he wanted. Money, influence, power… they were all his. He could have whatever and whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He had never needed to resort to stalking to get near a girl before.

            So why was he doing it now?

            Here he was, hiding behind a shelf in the school library, trying to get a glimpse of her. He had finally worked himself up to the point of talking to her, but then Potter and Weasley had walked in, spoiling the moment. He couldn't bring himself to leave, he'd been so close to his goal, but he could NOT approach her with those two idiots hanging off her. He stepped a little closer, trying to hear what they were saying, but it was no use. He couldn't get close enough. There were too many people in the library. He had to remain aloof and uninterested.

            He was debating on just giving up on his brief flash of courage when the boys left, presumably to practice Quidditch before the sun went down. That had become their habit these days, since both of them were on the team. He hated to admit it, but the practice had paid off. Weasley was quickly becoming a decent player. It was about time too. Last year's matches had been far too easy to win with him as Keeper. Draco preferred not to waste his time practicing. Quidditch wasn't his passion. He only played because Potter did, and he was already a fair player. Besides, he had much more important things on his mind- the most consuming being that girl sitting a few feet away.

            He took a deep breath, grasping the frayed remains of his courage. The walk seemed to take forever. She seemed to sense his approach, though, because she turned to look at him, a strange gleam in her eyes.

            "What do you want, Malfoy? Why were you spying on us?" God, she sounded angry, and he felt himself increasingly drawn to her.

            "I wanted to _talk_, Granger. Is there something wrong with that?" He did his best to sound arrogant and unaffected, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult with her glaring at him like that. Why couldn't she just be cold to him? That would be so much _easier_. Instead she had that fire in her eyes again, and he knew that no matter what, he wouldn't be running away this time.

            "You never want to talk to me, Malfoy. What are you after? Have you come to play a trick on the mud-blood?"  She was standing now, hands on her hips, a defiant look in her eyes. Draco was intensely aware of their close proximity, but people were looking their way. He had to get her _alone_.

            "Well, I want to talk to you _now_. Let's do this somewhere else, though."

            "What's the matter, Malfoy, too many witnesses?"

            "_Yes_," he said, his voice strained. He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the library, completely aware he was making a fool of himself, but unable to stop. He didn't let go until they had found an empty classroom. By then Hermione was furious about how he was manhandling her, and Draco was panting from the effort of dragging her against her will.

            "Quit it!" he yelled as she hit him for what seemed the billionth time. It was just lucky for him she couldn't reach her wand. He was sure she would have jinxed him by now.

            "Let me go, Malfoy!" she yelled at him, and he did. She stumbled backwards, surprised by his sudden release of her arm, and nearly fell over. Draco reached for her, catching her before she lost her balance completely. She stared at him in shock. He seemed surprised by his actions as well, releasing her more slowly this time, his face an impassive mask.

            "What's _wrong_ with you?" she asked, more quietly this time. Draco shook his head, not sure how to answer her, unsure what to say now that he had her alone. The words he had practiced in his head all seemed hollow and insufficient. How could he tell her that he was sorry for how he had treated her? How could he say that he was wrong and ask for any kind of forgiveness? How could he let her know how he felt now that he'd grown up and realized that his father's ideas and values didn't have to be his own? How could he reveal to her that _she_ was the cause of this change in him?

            "Draco?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He could feel the comforting weight of it, could hear the concern in her voice, and was amazed by the true power of her heart. How could he dare to touch something that pure? How could he think it? What gave him the right to do so? He had earned nothing. He hadn't stopped tormenting her, hadn't repented his ways, not really. He was still the same person she had always known.

            He realized he had no choice. He had to turn away.

            "You know what," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "it was nothing. Just… forget about it." He pulled away, letting her hand drop from his shoulder. The sudden absence of that warmth brought her loss home to him. He couldn't have her until he'd made amends, if he ever did. Until then, he would feel that cold in his heart, but that was how this had to go. He couldn't live with himself otherwise.

            He stalked from the room, fighting back a wave of nausea, leaving a very confused Hermione staring after him.


	4. Dragon's Flame Chances

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Four

Chances

By darthelwig

I don't own them and they make me no money. Leave me alone.

This is still PG-13, for now.

            He had managed to avoid her for days now.

            Not an easy thing to do since Slytherin and Gryffindor had so many of their classes together, but he managed. Crabbe and Goyle were very useful in that way. They kept him safely away from her, opening up paths in the crowds so he could make his escape after their classes. They didn't ask questions, either, and that was exactly how he wanted it. The less those two knew about things, the better.

            Hermione didn't make it easy, of course. She was determined to get to him. Everywhere he went; there she was, like magic. When he walked into the dungeons for Potions, she tried to catch his attention. During Herbology, she tried to stand next to him. Always, she had barely missed him.

            But he didn't want to talk to her. He couldn't. There was too much to say and no right way to say it. He had to think things through before he did something he would regret. There were too many ways he could mess thing s up, too many things that could go horribly wrong.

            Twice now, she had started to speak to him, only to have him walk away. He knew it was maddening to her. He wished she would just give up, but that was one of the things he liked about her; her determination. Potter and Weasley probably thought she had gone mad, but she still didn't seem to care.

            It was just after breakfast one day that Potter caught him alone outside the Great Hall. If he'd been paying attention, it probably wouldn't have happened, but he was distracted by his thoughts of her and walked right into Potter's outstretched arm. He had only a moment to blink before he was staring down the length of a wand pointed directly at his face, so close he had to cross his eyes to see the tip. He followed the straight line of the wood until he saw its owner, and then he knew he was in trouble.

            "What did you do to her, Malfoy?" Potter asked, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage. Draco swallowed hard and fought to fins his voice.

            "What are you talking about, Potter?" He tried to sound menacing, but that didn't come off very well seeing as how he was on the business end of the furious boy's wand.

            "I'm talking about _Hermione_. Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. What did you _do_ to her?" Harry sounded like he was reaching the end of his control.

            "Why don't you ask _her_, Potty?"

            "She won't tell us anything about it! But Ron and I heard about you dragging her through the school! You had better not have hurt her, Malfoy!" Draco could sense how badly Potter wanted to hurt him for hurting his friend, but he also knew that the boy could do nothing without proof. After all, he couldn't be the good guy if he went around hexing people for no reason, now could he? The thought bolstered Draco's flagging confidence.

            "I didn't do anything to her, idiot. If I had, do you think she would be so keen on talking to me?"

            Apparently the thought had not occurred to the angry Gryffindor. Harry's mind worked that over for a minute, trying to decide if that made sense or if Draco was simply playing him for a fool. With a huge sigh, he reached the conclusion Draco had intended. His wand lowered slowly until it was pointing at the floor.

            "Stay away from us, Malfoy," he said softly, his voice adding a hint of a threat. Draco watched Potter walk away, not breathing until he had exited the hallway. He should have known to expect this. Potter and Weasley were very possessive of Hermione. Any perceived threat to her would be answered with extreme force.

            Well, if Draco had possession of her heart he would be the same way, he supposed. Still, that had been a pretty intense encounter with Potter, and he was anxious not to repeat the experience. Weasley had even less control of his temper, so he would have to be extra careful to avoid _him_. Why couldn't life be easy?

            He began the long trek to the Slytherin common room, being more careful about his surroundings. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to be caught off-guard twice in one day. He was just thankful his father didn't know what was going on. He would disown his son if he were aware of how many stupid mistakes the boy had been making recently.

            Draco thought he was very alert, so it came as a huge surprise when her voice came from right behind him.

            "You can't avoid me forever, Malfoy," she said, no trace of anger in her voice. He nearly jumped out of his skin, swinging around to face her. She was standing so close!

            "Get away from me, Granger!" He tried to walk away, but she placed a hand on his arm and he froze in mid-stride.

            "What's going on with you?" she asked, taking a step towards him.

            "Nothing- it's nothing," he said, his voice harsh. "Please…"

            She looked at him in surprise. Draco knew immediately that he's made a mistake. He never apologized to anyone, yet he had just done so- to someone he had proclaimed to be a 'filthy little mud-blood'. He closed his eyes, trying to regroup.

            "What did you say?" she asked in amazement.

            Draco knew this was going too far. He had to put a stop to it _now_. Gathering his strength, he turned on her, yanking his arm away from her in the process. His face was screwed up in anger, or was it pain?

            "Get away from me, mud-blood!" he yelled, taking her stunned silence as an opportunity to escape. But he couldn't run from the choked sob he heard behind him, and it haunted him well into the night.


	5. Dragon's Flame Yearnings

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Five

Yearnings

By darthelwig

I do not own them, they make me no money. Harry Potter's entire world belongs to the very talented J.K. Rowling, in case you hadn't heard.

Still PG-13 for now!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed my story! I love you all! You have no idea how much your kind words of encouragement mean to me!

            She wouldn't look at him anymore.

            Even when he was right in front of her, she would look anywhere but at him. He knew he had hurt her with the panic-driven insult he'd thrown her way the other night, but this new attitude of hers was killing him. He missed her attention, even (or especially) the glares she'd shoot his way.

            What had he done? This was not the way things were supposed to happen. He was supposed to tell her how he felt and then hold her as she spilled her heart to him as well. What the hell had happened to the Draco he had known only a year ago? Was he gone? Would he be this whimpering, whining, pathetic excuse for a man the rest of his life? Had she broken him in some way?

            A bitter smile graced his lips. That was hardly the case. He wasn't broken by any means. Things of that sort did not happen to a Malfoy.

            So what did he do now? He had no idea how to fix the mess he was in. He wanted to be with her but he had to prove himself first, if for no other reason than to prove his worth to himself. He had to be sure he wouldn't just turn around later on and strike out at her again.

            "_Like I did last night_,' he thought to himself. "_That was brilliant, Draco. That's exactly the way to start your life over._"

            What he needed was a plan; a means. He'd spent the better part of the last few days mulling it over and had come to only one conclusion. In order to prove he had changed, he needed to do things he had thought himself incapable of. He'd made a list of possibilities. Pulling the crumpled list from his pocket, he read it over again, though he had memorized it long before.

            Number one on the list was to join SPEW. He grimaced at that one. The civil liberties of house elves had never concerned him before, but Hermione felt very strongly on the subject. What mattered more to him right now- his pride or her? He sighed heavily. Hands down, she was more important. Maybe being a member wouldn't be so bad. Who would have to know?

            The second thing listed was to be nice to Weasley. No teasing, no snide remarks, no getting him in trouble with Professor Snape and definitely no fighting back if the Weasel mouthed off to him. That one would be difficult. He couldn't stand the little rodent. But he would do this for Hermione. That's what he had to keep telling himself. She would never want to open her heart to him if he couldn't be nice to her friends.

            That brought him to Potter, who happened to be number three. He had to be nice to Potter. This one would be tricky. He didn't want his father getting wind of this yet, and his Slytherin friends were great at spreading gossip. He needed to be polite, but not friendly (as if that could ever happen). He would be civilized to Potter. He would keep the image of himself and Hermione being happy together firmly in his mind whenever he and Potter were forced to speak to each other. After a while it would get easier. That's what he'd been told, anyway. He hoped he hadn't been lied to about that.

            The last thing on the list was the thing that scared him the most. He had to apologize to her- and not just for the other night but for every nasty thing he'd ever said or done to her. And he needed to somehow convince her that he was sincere, which would be especially difficult after their latest encounter. She had been open to him before he'd gone and stuck his foot I his mouth. Correcting that was going to be a major undertaking. What if she refused to believe him? What if she wouldn't even _listen_ to him? And the worst of all- what if she didn't even _care_?

            There were too many possibilities, too many ways for things to go wrong. He felt like he was living in fear. He was paralyzed by it. He couldn't stop thinking about it. The Draco he _had_ been would have acted first and thought it out later. He wished he could be like that again. Everything would be so much _easier_. But she mattered too much. He had to do this right.

            He folded the square of parchment carefully and returned it to a pocket inside his robes. Tomorrow would be a good day to begin his quest to win Hermione over. He would join Spew first thing in the morning, then track down Potter and Weasley for a bit of _talking_. He would worry about Hermione's part of his plan when he came to it.

            Draco walked out of the Great Hall, wrapped up in his own thoughts. He didn't notice Hermione's eyes follow him as he went.


	6. Dragon's Flame Beginnings

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Six

Beginnings

By darthelwig

I do not own them, though I wish I did. Harry Potter belongs to the amazing J.K Rowling. I would never presume to claim them for my own.

I have managed to maintain a PG-13 rating! That's a first for me!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story, especially to everyone who has added me to their author alerts and favorite stories lists. I couldn't receive a better compliment.

Should anyone ever wish to read more of my writings, including some originals, just stop by my web site. It's listed on my author directory page. I also have some original artwork and some of my fan art for Harry Potter posted there.

With that said, let's see what Draco's up to…

            He took a deep breath and plunged in.

            "I want to join SPEW," he said loudly, drawing more than just Hermione's attention. His face reddened slightly as people stared his way but he stood there defiantly; chin up, daring them to say anything. Hermione looked at him incredulously before collecting herself enough to speak.

            "It's not _SPEW_," she said coldly. "It's S.P.E.W."

            Draco blinked, taken aback for a second. 

            "Yeah, well… I want to join, okay?" He cringed inwardly at the bossy, defensive way the sentence came out. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression _right now_. He was trying to _impress_ her, not upset her! He stood there, fidgeting, waiting for her to yell at him or walk away.

            Hermione's stunned silence lasted no more than thirty seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to Draco. Finally, she spoke again, and he was surprised to hear her sound so _normal_.

            "Okay, then. Two sickles to join. That gets you a badge." She held out her hand and Draco placed the money in her palm. His fingers brushed her skin as he did so, and a little tingle went through him, settling in his stomach. The world around them seemed to melt away until they were the only people who remained.  She pocketed the sickles and said something, but Draco was too busy admiring her to catch it.

            "What?" he asked, slowly coming back to the world.

            "I _said_ I'll give you the badge later. I need to run up to the dorm and get one." She seemed just the tiniest bit irritated, and he grimaced. He was still in danger of botching this, he realized.

            "Okay," he said. "I can wait." After all, it would give him a chance to see her again, now wouldn't it? He smiled.

            "What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked.

            "Huh? What do you mean?"

            "You're smiling funny. _And_ you joined S.P.E.W. Is this some kind of trick? It's _very_ unlike you, Malfoy."

            "I happen to _care_ about elf rights, you know."

            She looked very doubtful about that but let the subject drop. Draco was glad for that. What would he have told her? That he was doing this to try and win her favor? Like _that_ would really happen in this lifetime!

            "Did you need anything else, Malfoy?"

            Draco realized he was just standing there in the hallway, looking at her. He almost slapped himself for being so stupid. People were not just staring now, but whispering behind their hands. He felt a blush creeping up on him again and panic seized him.

            "I've got to go. I guess I'll talk to you later, Granger." He took off, walking as fast as he could without looking like he was running away. When they were out of sight, he slumped against the wall, holding his face in his hands. This was only going to get worse, he knew. The problem was he wasn't going to change his mind about doing this.

            "Don't let them get you down, dear," said a painting of a matronly old woman that was hanging just across from him. "It always gets better."

            "What would you know?" he snapped, and she glared at him, offended. He groaned and stalked off, needing the sanctuary of his dorm before heading out to see Potter and Weasley.

            Hermione was going to be the death of him yet.


	7. Dragon's Flame Endings

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Seven

Endings

By darthelwig

I will never own Harry Potter. They belong to the incomparable J.K. Rowling.

PG-13 again!

I love my reviewers!

            Harry and Ron were not cooperating.

            Draco sighed again. They were going to make this as difficult for him as they could, weren't they? He wished this didn't matter so much. He would take great pleasure in whipping out his wand and jinxing them both on the spot. He'd have to make it something painful and humiliating….

            "Look," he said, each word coming out as slowly and clearly as he could make it. His eyes moved between them as they practically _vibrated_ with laughter. "I just want to hang out with you, alright?"

            Weasley couldn't help it anymore. He burst out laughing, holding his stomach as if he were in pain. Draco only wished….

            "And why," stammered Harry with his choked voice, "should we _let_ you?" Weasley was doubled over now, laughing so hard Draco was sure he wasn't breathing. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

            "Why _not_?" Draco asked irritably, trying to ignore Weasley as best he could. The boy's voice was grating on his nerves….

            "Well, for starters, how about because you _hate_ us?" Potter asked. He had sobered up a little now, starting to realize that his once-hated enemy was serious about this. Draco could see the wheels turning in Potter's feeble mind and he wondered how long it would take for the boy's brain to kick in. If anyone had a chance of discovering his motives for approaching them, it would be Potter. Draco cast a careful glance at Weasley, who was finally starting to calm down and was catching his breath. He wished Potter would hurry up before Weasley had the chance to start in on him again. Perhaps he should have brought Crabbe and Goyle along….

            His thoughts were interrupted by Potter's exclamation of understanding. 

            "This is about _Hermione_, isn't it?" the boy exclaimed. Ron looked at his friend, confused.

            "What _about_ Hermione?" he asked, apparently a little slow on the uptake after losing so much oxygen. Draco didn't even bother responding to him, but focused entirely on Potter. This was where his battle for acceptance truly lay.

            "So glad you're finally catching on," Draco muttered.

            "You're not getting anywhere _near_ Hermione, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled, clenching his fists. Draco gave him the coldest look he could manage before turning his attention back to Potter once again.

            "I am not the same person I was even a year ago, Potter. I think you can see that for yourself. I'm not asking for you to campaign on my behalf. All I'm asking for is a _chance- j_ust one chance. Surely you can grant me _that_." Draco didn't care anymore that he sounded as if he were pleading. He _was_. This was a moment he had greatly feared when he had first conceived this crazy plan. This was the event that would make or break it. Potter _had_ to let him in or Weasley wouldn't give him the time of day. And if he couldn't win this battle, he would surely lose the war.

            He stood there, looking Potter in the eyes, ignoring everything else. He was unafraid to face the measuring stare he was receiving back. He had nothing left to hide, nothing left to fear. His father, his mother, his friends… nothing mattered except _this_. He let Potter _see_ him with no arrogant sneer or mocking gaze- just Draco Malfoy, the person behind all of that.

            Draco, son of those who would support Lord Voldemort, stood there defenseless and let the Boy Who Lived judge him for himself.

            He sensed more than saw Potter's grudging acceptance of his honesty. Their eyes met in understanding for the first time ever, and Draco knew that he had won.

            Weasley, on the other hand, was a bit clueless.

            "If you think we're going to just stand by and let you torment Hermione, you've got another thing coming, Malfoy. You're worm food!" Weasley pulled out his wand to aim it at his hated enemy, but Potter was faster. He forced his friend's wand down. Ron looked incredulous but put up little resistance, which is what Draco had counted on. He would listen to his best friend's advice, even if he railed against it. Potter always won out in the end.

            "Let it go, Ron," Harry said. "We should give him a chance."

            "After all the things he's _done_? What about that? And what about everything he's _said_- not just to us, but to Hermione as well? Do you really think we can _trust_ him? This is probably some stupid, rotten trick to get something he wants!" Ron was red in the face, his fury making him tremble all over.

            "I _know_ what he wants, Ron, and it's not our choice to make. I think we can trust Malfoy, _for now_. I say we give him a chance." Harry looked at Ron expectantly, waiting patiently for his friend to think things through. Draco thought, for a moment, that Weasley was beyond forgiveness, but he was pleasantly surprised when the red-haired boy huffed and put his wand back in his robes.

            "Fine, but harm her in _any_ way, Malfoy, and you're _toast_." Weasley looked ferocious, but Draco was undaunted. He gave the boy a sickly-sweet smile and turned back to Potter.

            "I have no intention of hurting her," he simply stated, and it was the truth. He had no desire to harm her. His interests lay elsewhere.

            "I believe you, Malfoy, but good intentions may not be enough for you."

            Draco was taken aback by the simple truth in Potter's words. That was exactly what he had been worrying about- that he wasn't going to be good enough to see this through. He was very surprised by his former enemy's uncanny perception into what he thought had been a well-guarded heart.

            "Well said, Potter."

            Harry's wry smile held a hint of sadness but he didn't say anything else about it. Draco was glad about that. He didn't think he could take any more openness. Weasley seemed to agree.

            "Are we off to practice?" he asked his friend, glancing nervously at Draco.

            "Yeah," Harry replied. "Want to come?" The invitation was genuine, so Draco agreed. Maybe that would be a good way for them to begin their 'bonding'. Who would have thought that he would ever want to bond with these two? Times changed, he supposed.

            He thought of Hermione and suddenly the world was looking a little bit brighter.


	8. Dragon's Flame Fears

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Eight 

Fears

By darthelwig

I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is the talent that brought them to life.

PG-13 again, but beware! This chapter is a bit more intense than the rest.

            He found himself walking through a darkened hallway.

            The walls were stone and looked aged. The mortar was crumbling and the stone itself was scarred and chipped everywhere you looked. Lichen and moss covered the stone walls in green and white- almost to the roof. The floor was made of hard-packed dirt. He could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance, but the floor was dry.

            There were no torches present. Actually, there was very little light at all. What little illumination there was came from somewhere at the other end of the hallway. From what he could see at this great distance, it looked like a candle.

            He began walking down the hall, curious and a little afraid. He couldn't say exactly what he was afraid _of_, but an ominous sense of foreboding was slowly building in his chest. He wanted to run from this place but he moved forward anyway, his feet seeming to have a mind of their own. He tried to turn around, but with no success. Ever so slowly, he approached that flickering orange light.

            As he came closer to it, he realized the light was not a candle at all, but a torch set in the wall. More details became clear to him the closer he got. First, he identified two separate torches, spaced about four feet apart. Then he saw that they bordered a doorway. He crept closer and closer, and panic started to rise in him. The sight of that solid wooden door filled him with a fear he had never known before. He wanted to scream but no sound escaped him. He was frozen in the grip of some terrible evil.

            Far too quickly for his tastes, he was standing in front of that door. He knew he was going to enter, but he did not want to put his hand on the doorknob. He resisted with all his might, refusing to touch it, when a voice came from the darkness behind him.

            "You cannot fight this battle, my son. Let it happen and save yourself the pain."

            "Father?" he asked, his voice betraying his fear, and suddenly he felt like he was two years old again. "Father, I don't want to go in there."

            "But you must enter, you see. Beyond that door is your future. This is what we have been working toward for so many long years now. Do not fail me so close to our goal." His father's voice was hard and cold, as he had always been, yet somehow different. It carried a hint of something his son could not quite place. Was it satisfaction? Or was it that giddy pleasure Death Eaters seemed to get from watching people suffer? Whatever it was, it had never been directed toward _him_ before, and he became more afraid than ever. 

            "Please, father. Don't make me do this. I don't want it!" He was begging now, tears were sliding down his pale cheeks, but his father didn't help him or comfort him. He supposed he was a fool for wanting it. When had his father _ever_ been warm towards him?

            "Go on, son. Open it," the older Malfoy said, as if he were offering his son a gift.

            His son's hand rose toward the door unbidden. He wanted to shriek when his flesh pressed against the cold, hard metal of the knob. It was slick with some kind of moisture, and he prayed he never found out what kind. In slow motion, the door opened, revealing a small, almost empty room lit by more flickering torches. Inside was a straight-backed chair facing a wall- and hanging from that wall, suspended by manacles, was Hermione.

            A scream built up inside of him. Clearly, he saw her mangled body and scarred face. She was nearly _dead_. He wanted to run to her, get her down and find some help, but he was again frozen in place by that awful power that had taken control of his body. His father moved next to Hermione, raising her head so his son could see her better. The younger Malfoy wanted to turn away and not be forced to look at her in such agony. He couldn't bear it, but he was not in control and had no choice but to see.

            "She has been in our way for far too long, my son. It is time we disposed of her. Perhaps, without the little mud-blood, Potter will fall." His father's excited smile terrified him. He did not want this to happen. He struggled, trying to move his body even the slightest bit, but he was helplessly caught in his father's web. Or perhaps this design belonged to someone more sinister….

            He realized then that his father was holding out a knife. It gleamed brightly in the torch light, sending a shiver down his spine. His father was offering it to him, motioning for him to take it. He felt his hand close around the handle, felt the easy weight of it in his palm, and his panic was suddenly gone. In its place was a sea of calm, as if he had accepted this fate and was prepared to do whatever his father decreed.

            He held the knife to her throat and was about to plunge it in when she opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, but that gaze cut deep into his soul. He could feel her look _into_ him, and he leaned forward as he saw her try to speak.

            "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice painfully hoarse and difficult to for him to hear. But that simple, remarkable statement in the face of all this horror broke the spell that had him enthralled. Emotion flooded in on him as he came back to himself, and his stomach lurched with revulsion of the act he had been about to commit. He yanked his hand away from her, throwing the knife to the ground, and was reaching for her face when a soft, cruel voice sounded behind him.

            "Crucio," his father said, his voice like ice, and suddenly his body was collapsing as his bones and muscles screamed with pain.

            Draco bolted upright in his bed, a scream on his lips. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was racing in his chest. He realized he was out of breath, gasping for air, and he ran a hand through his dampened hair. It was a dream, just a dream. It was a nightmare, really, but imagination none the less. He was at Hogwarts, his father was nowhere around and Hermione was safe.

            He couldn't shake the feeling that this dream had been a warning of some kind. The dread he had experienced standing before the doorway was still with him. He wiped his face, trying to calm himself. There was nothing to be afraid of here. He was safe at Hogwarts. All the students were. No nameless, faceless evil was waiting in the wings looking for an opportunity to pounce. Not here. He had never seen that hallway before in his life. Where had that image come from? It had seemed so _real_.

            He knew he wouldn't be sleeping any more that night. Not with the memory of that horrible place fresh in his mind. He could still see Hermione's face, torch light playing over her features, as she looked at him with those _eyes_. They had been full of pain and something else… betrayal?

            A cold knot of determination solidified in his gut. He _would not_ betray her. He would never hurt her like that, not even for his father. He would protect her from _anything_, himself if need be.

            His new resolve comforted him somewhat, and he settled back down into his bed, resting his head on the pillow. He would protect her….

            Once again he was lost to sleep's sweet oblivion, and this time his dreams were of roses and of _her_.


	9. Dragon's Flame Confessions

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Nine

Confessions

By darthelwig

J.K. Rowling owns them. I do not. There. You made me say it. Are you happy now?

This one's PG-13 again!

Last chapter was pretty intense, but here's a little fluff to lighten things up….

            He wanted to run away.

            He'd been hanging with Potter and Weasley for days, and they had developed a rather tentative friendship. They still annoyed the hell out of him but he found he no longer wanted to curse them out of existence. They had been pretty decent to him, though he knew they still didn't trust him completely. He didn't blame them at all. He had mo_re_ than earned their distrust.

            But none of that compared to this moment.

            Why did she have to look so _pretty_?

            And what made her so pretty anyway? She was sitting at a table in the nearly deserted library, reading another thick, dusty volume of spells. Her bushy hair was falling all around her, blocking her face from his view. She looked like any other girl in the castle, except… she _didn't_. There was something about her, some nameless quality that was at once alluring and disarming. He had no name for it and it didn't really matter. It just_ was_.

            His thoughts began drifting towards the nightmare he'd had the other night. He didn't want to think about it, but images kept creeping up on him whenever he let his guard down. He remembered her face as she gazed up at him, not in pain but in forgiveness. He hoped that he would find that forgiveness here and now. He would need it.

            Dismissing his more morbid thoughts, he took that first step and sat next to her.

            "What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, not bothering to look up at him.

            "I want to talk, Granger," he said quietly.

            "I hear you've been talking to Ron and Harry a lot," she said, a question in her voice.

            "Um, yeah. We're getting to be, um… friends, I guess."

            "I thought you'd never be friends with them. I thought you didn't want anything to do with us," she said softly, waiting for an explanation. She still had not raised her eyes from the pages she'd been reading.

            "Well… times change, I guess. People change." He decided to take the plunge. What could it hurt? "That's what I wanted to talk to you about…Hermione." He had never said her name out loud before and it felt strange on his tongue; strange, but not unpleasant. She was surprised as well, and she raised her head to meet his eyes. Draco found himself suddenly drowning in those sweet depths, aching to reach out and touch her face. She turned away quickly, breaking the spell.

            Draco reached out his hand, unwilling to let her turn away from him. His fingers found her hand as it rested on the book, and he slid his fingers around hers. Her hand was warm and smooth, the skin silky beneath his fingers. His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his eyes following the path it made.

            "I wanted to say that…I'm sorry," he whispered. "I want to apologize for everything I've done to you. I know I've been a total ass, and I want to make it up to you somehow, if that's at all possible." He was leaning closer; unaware he was doing so until his cheek brushed against her hair. He inhaled her sweet scent, so familiar and yet so alien to him. His eyes never left their hands as they were clasped together.

            "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

            She was speechless for a long moment, until Draco feared she wouldn't say anything at all.

            "Apology accepted," she said slowly. "Do you have to keep _doing_ that?" she asked, indicating his thumb, which was still moving over her soft skin. Draco leaned in even closer, his breath tickling her ear. His voice was playful.

            "Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked.

            "Y-yes," she said her voice shaky. "I can't quite, um, concentrate with you d-doing that."

            Draco noticed that she wasn't pulling away, so he decided to keep up his advances. He was nothing if not confident, after all. He had to know if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

            "Maybe I don't want you to concentrate on anything but _me_," he murmured. His face was mere inches from her cheek. He could see her gaze resting on their hands, on his thumb. Draco screwed up his courage one last time and made his move.

            Ever so slowly, he moved his head closer to her and let his lips brush gently over her cheek. She started, jumping away from him very suddenly and breaking their physical contact. His senses mourned the loss of her next to him and he looked up at her as she stood there, breathing raggedly. She glanced at him and he knew she had felt something in his kiss, something that had completely unnerved her. She was a bundle of nervous energy now and he could see how she wanted to leave him there, leave him and hide from whatever it was she was feeling.

            He didn't want to let her. He stood up, careful not to crowd her, and brought a hand up to her cheek. Her eyes were huge now, like a frightened animal, but he just cupped her face in his palm.

            "What are you afraid of, Hermione?" he asked quietly, almost tenderly. She was shaking, he could feel it, and he wanted to calm her fears. He wondered if she would tell him. Would she trust him with this knowledge?

            "I- uh, well…. I'm a little afraid of _you_ Draco," she whispered, moisture glistening in her eyes. The statement hit him like a brick right in his stomach, forcing the air out of him. She was afraid of _him_?

            "I promise that I will _never_ hurt you, Hermione. You have to believe me!" His voice was pained. He didn't know how to conquer her fear of him. He hadn't even realized she was _afraid_ of anything. What was he going to do?

            "It's not you, really," she said, bringing some hope back to him. "I just don't want things to turn out badly, do you understand? I don't want this to be some silly prank or trick. I couldn't bear it if I let you break my heart like that. I _want_ to trust you, but…."

            "You can trust me, Hermione. I swear it. This is no joke, not this time. I know I've done nothing to earn it, but please- trust me!"

            "I want to," she said longingly. Draco moved closer to her, staring her straight in the eyes, his gaze penetrating and intense.

            "Listen to me," he said quietly. "I will never let anything happen to you. I want you in my life. I don't care who or what your parents are. Not anymore, and especially not if it will keep me from you. My parents can rot. The _world _can rot. I want you, Hermione Granger. _Please_…give me a second chance."

            He was staring at her so earnestly, and she felt her heart melt at his words. Draco could see the change come over her. He had never said please to anyone before, and he'd never spoken so plainly about his feelings to anyone, not ever. But she made him want to be truthful and be a better person. She was a smart girl. She could hear the truth in his words and see the change in his heart. He was depending on that.

            She smiled a tiny smile, one that was just for him, and this time her eyes held the beginnings of happiness in their warm depths. Her small hand came up to touch his face, feeling the sharp angles of his jaw and Draco felt triumph blossom in his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, and his heart sang with the joy of having her in his arms.

            When the kiss broke, she looked up at him shyly, a teasing smile on her lips. The fire that he loved so much was burning there in her eyes, only now it was smoldering for him.

            "Things will never be the same," she said softly, but Draco found himself not caring about that at all.

            "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said before kissing her once more.


	10. Dragon's Flame Feelings

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Ten

Feelings

By darthelwig

I do not own these characters or this world. J.K.Rowling does. I make absolutely no money off this story.

Its PG-13 time again!

I needed to write a bit of fluff, for my own sanity, so here it is!

            He wished he had a camera.

            It had been two weeks now since he and Hermione had worked things out in the library and life was looking pretty good, he had to admit. Nothing had seriously gone wrong, if you didn't take into account the reactions of his fellow Slytherin students to their admittedly odd relationship. Crabbe and Goyle had been simply confused, but as usual they went along with whatever Draco wanted. Pansy and the others had been a bit more betrayed. After countless arguments, a few attempts to beat the sense into him and one seriously messed up shot at hypnotizing him, they had finally given up. He was free now, at school anyway. He knew Pansy, at least, had sent notes to his parents, but he wasn't going to worry about them right now. They seemed very far away at the moment, and Hermione was all too near.

             Students of the other houses, he reflected, had assimilated this new happening rather well after it proved not to be a hoax of some kind. A few of them had tried to talk some sense into Hermione, but she would not be swayed. And since Potter and Weasley were letting things go as they were, why shouldn't the other students? If anyone should have a problem with this new development, it should be those two. Draco was glad he had decided to handle them first, since the other students (especially the Gryffindors) followed their lead.

            And now here he was, sitting on the grass near the lake, an old tree propping up his back and Hermione Granger in his arms. Her head was resting on his shoulder as she took a little nap, safely nestled in the cradle of his arms. He wished he had a camera to capture the peace of this moment forever. They came all too rarely.

            His free hand came up to brush a strand of hair off her sweet face, and he marveled at the position he now found himself in; Potter and Weasley's friend, Hermione Granger's boyfriend…when had the world gone mad? He hoped it would never end.

            A loud splash from the lake drew his attention, and he watched as the giant octopus played in the water, it huge tentacles splashing unwary students. A soft chuckle escaped him as he found himself enjoying the creature's game much more than the students close to the water's edge.

            He felt Hermione wake up, her body stiffening as she stretched slightly. He looked down at her, a smile still on his face, and she greeted him with one of her own.

            "How long have I been sleeping?" she asked, brushing her hair back off her shoulders. She sat up and yawned, reminding Draco of a very happy, very replete little kitten.

            "Not long," he said, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close. She giggled and cuddled up next to him, enjoying his warmth. Draco planted a light kiss on her forehead, his aversion to such public displays of affection temporarily disabled.

            "I love holding you, kitten," he sighed into her hair.

            "Kitten?" she asked, curious. He'd never called her anything but Hermione since they had started dating. She liked hearing him say her name, but 'kitten' was kind of nice as well, she supposed.

            "That's my new nickname for you," Draco explained. "You remind me of a very happy little kitten, all fuzz and eyes."

            She laughed at his gentle tease about her hair. His indulgent smile never failed to melt her and she had given up days ago on pretending like she was offended. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a slow, sweet kiss that spread warmth from her head to her toes. When their lips parted, Draco was grinning at her.

            "I win again," he said, and she playfully slapped his arm as he pretended to duck.

            "Are you ever going to be serious?" she asked, not really minding at all.

            "I am very serious," Draco said solemnly. "I am seriously falling in love with you."

            That was the first time he had mentioned love to her, and it left her speechless. She couldn't believe he had just said that, and neither could he. What in the hell had prompted him to say such a thing?

            "Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice quiet and hopeful. When she spoke like that, he had no choice but to tell her the truth of what lay in his heart. He could never lie to her about that.

            "Yeah, I mean it. I love you, Hermione. You made me care when I thought I would never care like this about anyone." He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her gaze any longer, but she brought his eyes back to hers with a finger under his chin.

            "I love you too, Draco. You don't ever have to be ashamed of yourself with me. I will always be here for you." Her voice was gentle and soft, washing over him like a soothing caress. The flame was still there in her eyes and he felt himself drawn towards it. Their faces came together and their lips met in a molten kiss full with the promise of forever.

            He was lost in her and he didn't mind at all.


	11. Dragon's Flame Warnings

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Eleven

Warnings

By darthelwig

I do not own Harry Potter's universe. That honor belongs to J.K.Rowling.

PG-13, though we seem to be getting a bit darker, eh?

Thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers. I hope this story is living up to your expectations. I really appreciate all of your kind comments!

            Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room, resting after a long day of getting his ass kicked in their latest Quidditch match against Gryffindor, when the owl came. It was a rather large screech owl, and he recognized it immediately as his mother's. The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach all at once. He stared at the letter the owl had dropped onto his lap, knowing this couldn't be good. His mother was rather preoccupied of late, what with his father being taken into custody by the Ministry, and hadn't bothered sending him a letter for weeks.

            She knew. She knew about his relationship with Hermione, and she wasn't pleased about it. That was the only explanation for receiving this letter now, of all times. He dreaded opening it, dreaded hearing her lecture him or lay on the guilt. He just wanted to pretend he'd never received the letter, but he knew doing so was pointless. He would have to face the music sometime, better sooner than later.

            He picked up the envelope and broke the seal quickly, before he could have a change of heart. The letter was just as he'd feared it would be.

            _"Draco Darling,_

_            I hope this letter reaches you before anything horrible happens._

_            I don't understand why you have chosen to betray your father and myself in such a manner, but it will stop immediately. This infatuation with a mud-blood is below your station and I believed we had raised you better than this. I hope you know how humiliating this is for me, having all of our friends know that my son has been consorting with a filthy perversion of nature such as her._

_            How could you do this to the family name?_

_            With your father in Azkaban at the moment, it is my duty to uphold our family's honor, and I will do so at all costs. Know this, my son…you will suffer should you continue as you have been doing, for the Dark Lord does not take treachery of this kind lightly. Save yourself and your family from this disgrace now. End it._

_            -Your fearful mother."_

            He reread the letter a couple of times, wondering what his mother meant by "before anything horrible happens". Surely Voldemort had better things to do than punish him for seeing Hermione. Surely his plans had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy. What horrible thing could possibly happen here at Hogwarts? His mother was just being her usual manipulative self, playing on his fear. They were safe here, of all places.

            He was saddened to know she was having a hard time of things, though. She was still his mother, and he loved her. He knew how horrible their so-called family friends were probably being to her with the gossip and disdain they were so keen on bestowing to those they deemed unworthy or foul. His actions did reflect on his parents, and his mother was without his father's steadying force to guide her. But he would not be forced to leave Hermione, not for anything. If his mother didn't like the way their friends were treating her, she could always make different friends. Draco had done so, hadn't he?

            It angered him to hear his mother call Hermione a "filthy perversion of nature". He knew that was exactly as he had thought of her at one point, and his own guilt made him detest the term even more. She was pure and wonderful and sweet and intelligent…and everything the opposite of that phrase. He couldn't stand to hear her talked about like that anymore, and had punched one Slytherin boy right in the nose for saying it just the other day. It had earned him a detention, as it had happened right in front of Professor McGonagall, but it was well worth it. And detention hadn't been that bad. Hermione believed McGonagall had gone easy on him because of the "nature of his crime". Draco was inclined to agree, since polishing and trimming the schools broomsticks definitely hadn't been a bad job to do.

            Bringing himself back to the letter at hand, though, Draco worried about Hermione. If Voldemort really did care about his "betrayal", she would be in danger. Hogwarts was safe, but other places were perhaps not. Hogsmeade was an obvious choice for a move against her, as was the summer break, though Draco had a hard time imagining the Dark Lord waiting so long for his revenge. No, Hogsmeade visits would give him a perfect opportunity to send one of his followers after her, and there was one coming up in just a few short weeks. He wondered if his mother knew something about a possible plan being hatched. Is that why she had warned him? Were they really going to attack her during the trip?

            Worry was gnawing at his insides. He knew that he alone would not be able to protect her from a Death Eater or two if it came to that. He would need help. He thought of Potter and Weasley. Yes, he would tell them about this. They had handled situations like this before and would surely be able to help him. If worse came to worse, he would keep Hermione at the castle on that day- anything to protect her.

            Now that he had decided on a course of action, he felt a bit better, though he wouldn't feel completely at ease about it until that day had passed uneventfully. He needed to talk to Potter and Weasley immediately, or he would never get to sleep that night. He knew the Gryffindors would probably be in their common room celebrating their victory, so he folded the letter and stuck it in his robes, heading off to warn them. How he was going to get past the picture of the Fat Lady was a bridge he would cross when he came to it. He just thanked his lucky stars Hermione had told him where their common room was located or he'd be searching the castle all afternoon.

            He didn't look behind him as he left, or he would have seen Pansy's evil smirk as her eyes followed his retreating form.


	12. Dragon's Flame Betrayals

Dragon's Flame 

Chapter Twelve- Betrayals

By darthelwig

I don't own them, but J.K. Rowling does; and to top it all off I'm making no money off this story at all.

The story is still PG-13, and that's amazing for me!

Sorry for the wait, folks. I've been sick. Looks like Draco's been busy, though…

            Draco felt the tension slowly seep out of his body.

            He and Hermione were sitting on the bleachers of the deserted Quidditch pitch, playing wizard's chess. For such a brilliant young witch, she didn't play very well, mainly due to the fact that she was loath to sacrifice any of her pieces. It had taken her a while to get over what she called the more "barbaric" aspects of the game. She was gradually improving, though, and Draco's goal was to get her skilled enough to beat Weasley at his own game. He just had to teach her ruthlessness, and what better teacher than him?

            He smirked as she played right into his trap, and he nudged his bishop forward to take her castle.

            "You play dirty, Draco," she said, her voice slightly annoyed. He loved the little pinched look she developed at the corners of her mouth when she was irritated with him, and couldn't help grinning at her.

            "Always," he said, sounding completely unconcerned and just a tad too cheery for her tastes. Hermione delivered him another of her world-class glares and went back to studying the board. He was shaking with silent mirth and had to clap his hand over his mouth to stop the laughter escaping. God, how he loved this girl.

            He loved her enough to nag her to stay at the castle during the current Hogsmeade weekend. Potter and Weasley had been unable to think of anything to ensure her safety if she were to visit the little village, so the three of them had argued her into remaining behind. It was probably the only thing they had ever agreed on. Hermione had been reluctant at first, but she was a sensible girl and had finally seen reason. So it was that they were killing time, enjoying the empty castle grounds, even though it was a bit cold. Potter and Weasley had also remained at the castle. If Death Eaters were going to be in Hogsmeade, it wasn't safe for either of them.

            Hermione was studying the board with the sort of intense scrutiny she usually reserved for her homework. Draco didn't doubt she was taking this game _very_ seriously. He loved this moment, loved being with her, loved watching her think…he couldn't help it. He was completely smitten.

            He was scrutinizing her so intently that he failed to notice three silent forms approaching from behind him. It wasn't until one of them pressed the tip of a wand into his back that he became aware there was danger present.

            He stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath, and Hermione looked up. Her eyes widened as she instinctively went for her wand, but their enemies were faster.

            "_Expelliarmus_!" cried the one standing next to Draco, and he immediately recognized the speaker.

            "_Goyle_?" he said incredulously as Hermione's wand flew out of her hand. Goyle caught it, laughing and obviously enjoying finally beating little miss perfect Granger at something. Draco stood quickly, startling their attackers. He turned and whipped out his wand at the same instant three wands were pointed directly at Hermione.

            Draco couldn't have been more in shock at the identity of their assailants- Goyle, Crabbe…and _Pansy_?

            "What do you think you're doing?" he growled. Pansy simply laughed, pointing her wand straight at his chest.

            "Why, Draco darling, we're exterminating a rodent!"

            Something clicked in his head, and he couldn't believe his own stupidity.

            "It was _you_. You sent me that letter from my mother. You _wrote_ it!"

            "Of course I did. Do you really think your mother is thinking about _you_ right now? She's got bigger things to worry about than your silly little dalliance with a mud-blood!" Pansy was obviously enjoying having them at her mercy. Yes, she really did make an excellent Slytherin student. Draco found himself wanting to tear her throat out with his teeth.

            "What are you going to do?" he asked through gritted teeth, his fury obvious. He didn't bring his wand up, but it was clenched tightly in his fist, seemingly forgotten by Pansy and her cohorts. Hermione was at his back, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. _Nothing_ was going to happen to her.

            "Well, Draco, you've seriously hurt my feelings. You could have been with me, as is proper, but instead you've taken up with this filthy mud-blood bitch! So I'm going to hurt you like you hurt me and make myself a little happier in the process. I'm going to rid us of her presence forever!"

            Pansy's anger was building, he knew. She could explode at any time. If he was going to make a move, it would have to be now. He took a deep breath, preparing himself, and sprang into action.

            He leaped forward, shoving her wand aside, a muttered curse missing him by mere inches. His fist closed around her wrist, twisting, making her drop her wand. Pansy screamed at him, trying to claw his eyes out now that she was disarmed, and Draco knew he was in trouble. Crabbe and Goyle were already pulling him away from her. In a few seconds they would hex him into oblivion and Hermione would be lost…

            "_No_!" he yelled, pointing his wand at Goyle. His jinx struck his old friend point blank and Goyle fell backward, clutching his face. Over Pansy's screams he heard Crabbe begin an incantation, and Draco knew he would never be able to maneuver around in time. He closed is eyes, waiting for the worst, but Hermione's voice rang out instead.

            "_Stupefy_!" she shouted, and her voice had never sounded sweeter to his ears. In a flash of red light, Crabbe was frozen. Pansy was still struggling so he pushed her away, raising his wand to her as he did so.

            "_Incarcerous_," he muttered, watching the thick ropes settle over her. He saw that Hermione had done the same to Crabbe and Goyle. Draco still felt angry enough to kill, but Hermione was all right and that's all that really mattered. He took a few deep, calming breaths, closing his eyes for a moment.

            She came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

            "Are you okay?" she asked him quietly. He nodded, not trusting his voice. Pansy could have _killed_ her. How could he be so careless? He had to be more careful from now on. He had to protect her from the people in his past. He didn't want to be responsible for any harm coming to her. He didn't think he could handle the guilt.

            "I'm fine," he said softly, turning to face her. "Are _you_ okay?" His eyes were drinking her in, checking her for any obvious injuries in the process. She was breathless and beautiful, her eyes reflecting the excitement and danger of battle. Her flame was burning bright and proud, and his entire being responded.

            "I'm okay," she said. "I think we should fetch a teacher, though, to take care of these three." Her eyes glinted with anger as she glanced at their three 'prisoners'.

            "Yeah, you're right," he said. "Do you think they'll still be here when we get back?"

            "Oh yes," she said, her voice like stone. "I've made sure of _that_."

            Draco smiled at her tenderly, brushing her hair back from her face. He cast one final heated look at Pansy and followed Hermione out of the stands, headed for the castle. Childish prank or serious assassination attempt, Pansy would pay. He would make sure of that.

            No one was going to hurt that girl.


	13. Dragon's Flame Reflections

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Thirteen

Reflections

By darthelwig

I don't own these characters or this universe, so I'm not the one making money off them. J.K. Rowling is that lucky woman.

Still PG-13 for now!

This chapter HAD to be written to this song. It's perfect. And in case you're wondering, the song is "The Reason" by Hoobastank. They own it. My apologies to anyone who doesn't like song-fics.

            Draco tossed on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

            He hated nights more than anything. He had found himself spending almost all of his free time with Hermione. He liked being around her. But every night was the same. They each went to their separate dorm in a separate part of the castle, and he was left with a feeling of emptiness that never faded. He had discovered that all he wanted these days was to be near her. None of his old pastimes held any interest for him anymore. He didn't want to torment little first years into tears, he didn't want to play Quidditch and he certainly didn't want to hang with any of his Slytherin classmates. Not after what had happened with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle.

            So he had borrowed a stupid, palm-sized radio from Dean Thomas to see if music would make it easier to sleep. He had never really enjoyed muggle music before, but it was worth a try. Dean swore it helped him to relax, and Draco was desperate. He was exhausted.

            He flipped the switch and scrolled through the stations. The music came out sounding small and tinny, but one song caught his attention. He paused, giving it a chance to capture him, skeptical as he was.

            _"I'm not a perfect person…"_

            No, he wasn't a perfect person. Not at all. Hermione had shown him how wrong he had been before.

            _"There's many things I wish I didn't do…"_

            Wasn't that the truth? How many people had he hurt with his insensitive, snide comments and his bullying? How many times had he called Hermione a mud-blood? Or tormented Harry about his less than storybook life? Hell, he'd treated the Weasley's like second-class citizens, and they were decent enough people if you got past the country-bumpkin ways they had. He and Ron had finally come to an understanding, and it was slowly blossoming into a tentative friendship.

            _"But I continue learning…"_

            Yes, Draco knew he was still a work in progress. He still had his "Malfoy moments" as Hermione called them. His attitudes and beliefs had taken years to learn, and they couldn't be undone in a few months. It would take time and effort, both of which he was willing to dedicate toward his goal. He wanted to make Hermione proud. He wanted to be worthy of the love she had given to him. He knew he had a long way to go, but he would see this through.

            _"I never meant to do those things to you…"_

             Why had he been so terrible to people? His parents had taught him their value system, that's why, and he had been unwilling to go against their ideas. They were his family, and he loved them. He had admired his father for so long. Only now was he coming to understand how wrong his father's beliefs were.

            _"And so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know…"_

            He wanted to share all of these changes with Hermione. He wanted no other woman to be by his side ever again. No one could ever compare to her brilliance and heart. There would never be another love for him.

            _"I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be…"_

            Oh, yes, he smiled. He hadn't believed there would ever be a reason he would want to change his life around. He had been happy with the way things were. He had been feared and successful. His would have gone very far holding his father's teachings to his heart. But none of that mattered anymore.

            _"A reason to start over new, and the reason is you…"_

            She was his reason. She was his everything. She made him want to grow up and be a man for her. How could one person matter so much to him, when nothing had ever mattered before? She had crept under his skin, and now he would never be rid of her, and never want to. She was as vital to him as air.

            _"I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with every day…"_

            He would never forget the pain he had caused her. He would always remember that he owed her all the happiness he could provide. The guilt he felt now was like a hard, hot ball sitting in his stomach. Sometimes he couldn't stand the pain. Hermione could sense it, he knew, no matter how he tried to hide it from her. She saw into him more clearly than anyone else ever had. When the pain refused to leave, she was there to take it away. Her love was his healing.

            _"And all the pain I put you through… I wish that I could take it all away…"_

            Draco knew he could never atone for the things he had said to her. He remembered the tears in her eyes, the hurt he could see so plainly, when he called her a mud-blood. He, Draco, had made her cry. There was no excuse for it. He could only try harder to never hurt her again. He wished he could erase those times, but she loved him in spite of them, and that was more than he could have asked for.

            _"And be the one who catches all your tears. That's why I need you to hear…"_

            He wanted to be the one to comfort her when she needed it. He would always be her shoulder to cry on, her rock to break against. What ever strength he possessed was hers now. He could be that for her.

            _"I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be…"_

            He wanted her forever. He wanted to be her present and her future. He wanted to bring her all the joy she had shown him he was capable of. He wanted everything.

            _"A reason to start over new, and the reason is you…"_

            He felt like his life had just begun. He had finally learned what it was to be happy, and he had so much to share with her. A lifetime would never be long enough to suit him. He needed an eternity.

            _"I'm not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you…"_

            He would keep evolving and changing. Every day seemed to bring him a new discovery about himself, and he welcomed it with open arms. He was at long last finding the real Draco.

            _"And so I have to say before I go, that I just want you to know…"_

            His life would never be the same. She had changed him forever. He would never leave her. His life belonged to her.

            _"I've found a reason to show a side of me you didn't know…"_

            He had unearthed so many new sides to himself, emotions he didn't know he was capable of. All of them began when he embraced his love for that girl. How could she know how very much she had altered his life? He would always be grateful to her for showing him a new way to live. His heart was full to bursting with all the different feelings she inspired within him.

            _"A reason for all that I do, and the reason is you…"_

            He would always think of her before acting or speaking now. Every time he opened his mouth to shoot a cutting remark at someone, he saw her face and found himself unable to continue. She was his conscience. She brought light to his soul. He owed her everything he was.

            Draco smiled again, switching the radio off. The music played on in his mind, lulling him into slumber. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the music in his head fill his mind with images of her.

            Her smile was the last thing he saw.


	14. Dragon's Flame Sacrifices

Dragon's Flame- Chapter Fourteen

Sacrifices

By darthelwig

I don't own them, I just write for fun. I am making no money off this whatsoever. J.K. Rowling is the woman with ownership and privileges.

This chapter is PG-13, but it is kind of dark. There IS a character death, so if you have something against that, PLEASE don't read this.

            It started as such a beautiful day.

            Another scheduled Hogsmeade visit had stirred excitement among the students, who practically raced to get out of the castle. It had been a long winter, but now spring had come, and they were filled with the joy only sunshine, warmth and fresh air could bring. Everyone was smiling and the unnatural cheer had spread even to Professor McGonagall, who could be found taking uncharacteristic strolls through the courtyard.

            It was infectious, and even Draco's spirits were lifted. The winter had worn hard on him, his only comfort being his time spent with Hermione. Her smile never failed to bring light into his heart and peace to his troubled mind. He was still occasionally having that same nightmare where he was about to kill her. Each time, he woke in a cold sweat, panting like he had just run a mile-long race. Her love gave him comfort.

            He was holding her hand as they strolled down a path lined with trees that led around Hogsmeade. It was a popular trail for students who wanted some alone time with their significant others. He had to admit, the setting was quite beautiful. The village was partially obscured by the foliage, as early in the season as it was, and the world was alive with green growing things. Hermione glowed in the soft afternoon light, the beams from the sun playing in the curls. She was ablaze with beauty.

            They walked in silence, content just to be with each other and enjoy the day. There was no pressure here, no rules or limitations. They were free for just a few brief moments. Free of obligations, duties, and worries.

            The air was sweet with the scent of new flowers, something Draco had never taken the time to notice before. But now he was all too aware of it. Every breath he took reminded him of the stunning girl who walked next to him. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the warm, silky skin of her fingers. She smiled at him, laughing in merriment.

            Wrapped up in their own private world, they didn't notice the single shadow that marred the daylight's perfection creep toward them. Something in the back of Draco's mind came alive at the last second, and he threw back his robes, whipping out his wand.

            "Now, now… Draco. You don't really want to do that," said a low, silky voice that he would recognize anywhere. His eyes widened in shock and his hand shook as he pointed his wand at the familiar figure of his father. Hermione gasped as she saw him step out of the gathering shadows at the base of the trees.

            Draco didn't blame her. His father looked a mess. His robes were tattered and stained, his hair a filthy, matted mess. He had lost a bit of weight as well, and his prominent cheekbones, which were the mirror image of his son's, stood out sharply in his face. There was a mad gleam to his eyes, which were frosty as deep winter. Draco discovered he was well and truly scared by this man his father had become.

            "How did you get out of Azkaban?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from faltering. He was almost successful, the only sign of the depth of his fear being a small tremor at the end. Hermione was grasping his robes now, trying to pull him away, but he stood frozen to the spot. To run would draw his father's wrath immediately. It was best not to provoke him until they could manage to get the upper hand somehow.

            Lucius raised his fist, which was clasped firmly around a wand. Draco had no idea where his father had gotten hold of a wand, but the surprise was enough to cost him his own. His father muttered a charm and Draco's wand went flying out of his hand to land neatly in the older man's. Draco took an instinctive step forward, but stopped when his father shook his head.

            "Don't come any closer, traitor. Did you think I would not _know_? Did you think I would not find out? My _own_ son… is cavorting with a _filthy_ mud-blood. You have shamed our family!" Lucius' voice was harsh and bitter, a lasting reminder of where he had come from.

            "Well, _no more_, I tell you! I will _not_ have you defile our family name with that _abomination_!"

            With a flick of the wrist and a muttered charm, Draco was sent flying to one side. He landed hard, the breath knocked out of him. Hermione was reaching for her wand, but he could see it was too late. She would never have it out in time to help herself.

            Draco knew what was coming- the killing curse.

            There was no thought necessary.

            It was Hermione.

            In a fraction of a second, he was on his knees. Just a half second more and he was throwing himself up, towards Hermione. He was there, between them, looking into her eyes… He could hear the words, _Avada Kedavra_, and in a burst of green light… he was gone. She screamed as he fell, his lifeless body lying motionless at her feet. She stood there frozen in place, an easy target, but Lucius was dropping both wands. His face had gone slack with shock.

            "Draco?" he whispered, his voice devoid of its usual malice, sounding only empty and lost. He dropped to his knees, still staring at the body of his fallen son and heir. He didn't move when Hermione shrieked again, raising her wand and pointing it straight at him. He didn't react when she ran at him instead, using her fists instead of magic, unleashing her fury on him. She burned, and she burned for Draco.

            She punched him, kicked him, beat him with all the power she possessed in her body. He simply let her do as she would, not caring and possibly not even feeling. Harry, Ron and the other students came rushing toward them, drawn by the screams. It took both Harry and Ron's combined strength to pull her off of Draco's numbed father. Tears began pouring down her face, and she finally went still, her body becoming totally limp. Ron lifted her into his arms while Harry checked on Draco. Their eyes met in a silent and complete understanding, and Ron carried the sobbing Hermione away from then scene, toward the castle.

            It had started as such a beautiful day.

            The rest of the year was like a blur to the grieving Hermione. She went through the motions of living, but her heart was no longer in it. Her friends, her professors, everyone- they were all concerned, but she would talk to no one about her feelings. She became what Draco _had_ been- cold.

            Life had seemed so perfect until that day. There had been a future full of love and light and laughter, but now all of that had been ripped away. She felt shattered and incomplete without him there. She had grown so used to having her Draco there with her. She could no longer remember a time without him.

            On the last day of school, Harry decided he could wait no longer. He had to talk to her.

            "Hermione?" he said softly. When she didn't respond, he just continued on, hoping she was listening. He hated to see his friend like this. She was never meant to be this hollow. Maybe he could make a difference. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried.

            "Hermione, please come back to us. We need you. We miss you. Your friends are still here for you. Ron and I, we're still here if you need us.

            Draco wouldn't have wanted you to stop living because of him, Hermione. I know that. He loved you for the _life_ inside you. He died so you could _live_. I know a little something about that. Please, Hermione, open up. Don't let this be the end of you. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain," Harry pleaded.

            "_Please_, Hermione, come back."

            Harry was staring into her eyes, so distant and glazed, so he saw when the change happened. It started slowly, then she blinked and suddenly she was _there_… all raw emotion and pain. He wrapped his arms around her as she started to cry, and she buried her face in his shoulder. But this crying was a healing kind of sorrow, and Harry was gladdened in spite of himself. His friend was going to be okay.

            The dragon's flame was burning once again.


End file.
